


A Place of Warmth

by CagedBirdSings



Series: To Love You (MidoTaka) [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Romantic Fluff, That's it that's what the whole story is about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 04:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8519209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CagedBirdSings/pseuds/CagedBirdSings
Summary: Winter makes itself known when the heat pump of an otherwise comfortable apartment breaks, leaving the house cold. Fortunately, Takao and Midorima both have each other as a source of warmth.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yoko_Fujioka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoko_Fujioka/gifts).



> As this is a domestic fic where they're living togehter as a couple, the boys are young adults here - both around 23 years of age!

Takao welcomed all seasons with a smile, but the same thing couldn’t be said about broken heat pumps that made the whole apartment a frozen hell. After hours of shivering and several failed attempts to do anything that required him to leave the comforting warmth of the bed and blankets behind, he really wasn’t having fun anymore.

”Man, this is just plain ridiculous… make it stop…” Takao grumbled, voice muffled by the blankets. Despite that, his cries still managed to reach the ears of his partner.

“It will likely take a while before the radiators get fixed. Complaining won’t make the room any warmer.”

Midorima, who had woken up early due to a morning lecture at their university, found his boyfriend still in bed at his return, curled up under three thick blankets and seemingly with no plans to get up. He could hardly blame him, however: as nice as their shared apartment was, having the place lose its warmth in the middle of the coldest winter month was an unpleasant experience to say the least.

Hearing the words, Takao pulled the blankets down just enough to show his face, craning his head to look at his partner, frowning. “Would it kill you to show some compassion, Shin-chan? I’m freezing to death here! You’re supposed to _comfort_ me. ”

“It’s not nearly cold enough for you to freeze,” Midorima offered.

“ _Wow.”_

Seeing Takao make the driest expression he was capable of, Midorima sighed. He took a moment to think, pushed up his glasses, and made his way to sit at the edge of the bed the raven-haired man was currently occupying. The situation obviously called for a special tactic.

Slowly, but with confidence gained through several years of romantic affection, Midorima placed his hand on the side of Takao’s head, and brushed aside some black strands that were blocking the view of his partner’s steel blue eyes. His features were soft as he gently caressed the side of the smaller man’s face with long, pale fingers, fleetingly brushing against a soft pair of lips. He leaned forward, ever so slightly.

“ _Kazunari_.”

Midorima spoke, voice like liquid silk, and Takao was shamefully weak to it. One word was apparently all it took to turn him into mush, all complaints thrown out the window and onto the ice-covered streets.

No matter how many years passed, Takao couldn’t imagine himself getting enough of hearing his name from the lips of his other half. Midorima’s voice, low and yet incredibly smooth, will always be one of the loveliest sounds to ever grace his ears. For all his teasing, it certainly didn’t take much for Takao to become unraveled by his partner.

Feeling a slight blush starting to form on his features, Takao placed his left palm on top of Midorima’s hand to hold it in place, a familiar warmth covering his cheek.

“Foul play, Shin-chan,” he said, “using my weakness to your advantage like that.”

Midorima’s lips curved into a small smirk. “Not hearing you laugh in the middle of every other sentence is worrisome. I’m offering my comfort.”

“Well, you definitely just leveled up from that last sentence,” Takao answered with a wide smile, two rows of white teeth visible as he chuckled. “Want to come back to bed with me?”

Midorima seemed to consider the words. Then, he stood up. “Give me a moment.”

“Whatcha doin’?” Takao wondered, trying to somehow mask the persistent feeling of disappointment as Midorima made his way out of the room - and failing, because he couldn’t really bring himself to act like it was a well-guarded secret that he _really_ wanted his boyfriend in bed with him, for a variety of reasons. The taller man stopped at the door to answer, and Takao thought he saw an amused smile flickering on the way-too-beautiful face, before it quickly disappeared. Regardless, there was something playful and fond in Midorima’s eyes, much softer than when they first met – and, if possible, much brighter, even when the man had a pair of emeralds where his irises should be.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

Takao looked up into those emerald eyes. He felt touched, but not quite as much as he felt mischievous. Keeping the eye contact and trying not to let his lips curl up in a teasing smirk, he asked with mock worry, “ _Are you going to burn the kitchen_?”

“ _Silence_ ,” came Midorima’s reply as he left the doorway, and Takao grinned, knowing his partner was feigning irritation rather than feeling it. (During their time together, there had actually been more than a couple of times in the past when he had feared becoming homeless due to Midorima’s attempts at cooking – but those near-tragedies had now been overcome to the point where it was alright to joke about them, at least from Takao’s perspective if not from his more prideful half. But for all due credit, Midorima was a rather good cook these days. Not that it meant that Takao had any intentions to stop teasing him anytime soon.)

A moment after Midorima disappeared into the kitchen, he finally abandoned the covers. Putting on a sweater on top of his t-shirt and the thickest woolen socks he owned to protect his feet from the cold floor, he followed his boyfriend, crossing the living room and into the kitchen.

Midorima, who had just been taking plates out of the cupboard, turned around at the sound of Takao’s soft footsteps. “You’re not going to stay in bed after all?”

“Yeah, well, the situation required me to sacrifice,” Takao quipped, “so here I am.”

“You truly have little faith in me,” Midorima replied with a sigh. “I can handle this perfectly fine on my own. You shouldn’t have bothered.”

Takao smiled, fondly. It was moments like these when he really understood why many people didn’t understand Midorima – how perceptive he is, of others and the world around him, despite seeming like he lives on his very own planet – or how he shows consideration and affection in his own, often less-than-forward manner, or how he sometimes jokes in such a subtle way that it makes people question whether or not he’s joking at all. But Takao knew all of that, _had always known_ , for reasons that he didn’t want a logical explanation to, _because it’s much more interesting this way_ , and because he doubted that a logical answer even existed. But one thing he didn’t doubt was that he understood Midorima, and that Midorima understood him – and that right now, his boyfriend had followed his quip with a purposefully dramatic comment, but what followed after was genuine. The care and concern made him feel all kinds of warm and special, like a charm that offered protection from the frosty air, even if the show of affection was nothing new.

“Nah, don’t worry Shin-chan. You’re good, really,” Takao admitted, smiling brightly as ever, “but don’t things tend to be even better when the both of us are at it?”

For a moment, Midorima stared at Takao, surprised. Then, a small smile came to his lips.

“Fair point,” he said.

“That,” Takao added, “And also I just really wanted to make sure that you don’t burn the kitchen.”

“I’ve just about had enough of you.”

Before he could help it, a sort of muffled cackle escaped Takao’s lips, and Midorima looked like one who was staring into the void, too familiar with the scenario of being victim to his boyfriend’s relentless teasing. It only humoured Takao more.

“Sorry, sorry,” he hurried to add, trying his hardest to calm down (as he certainly didn’t consider himself a natural at that). Midorima sighed in response and reached to the cupboard once more, taking two cups and giving them to Takao, who had already raised his hand to receive whatever items would appear on them.

“Do you want to eat something in particular?” Midorima asked.

“Let’s see… it definitely needs to be soup when it’s this cold, but just plain miso is boring… _oh,_ how about making _mizutaki_ with the chicken in the fridge? Let’s have an early dinner.”

“I have no objections.”

Like most things they did together, cooking felt like a practiced dance - Takao and Midorima both seemed to know what the other was about to do, and so they moved about in synchronization that would have seemed eerie to the eyes of outsiders. Midorima removed the bandages from his fingers - still there due to his independent morning practice routine – and cut the chicken, tofu, and other necessary ingredients, while Takao handled the soup: otherwise the steam rising from the broth would only constantly get on Midorima’s glasses. Every now and then, one of them would reach out their hand, wordlessly requiring something - and soon enough, the item had all but appeared on their open palm. It all came so naturally that smiling about it almost seemed unnecessary, and yet every so often both of them would find themselves, or the other, with an upward curve on their lips.

Takao had always thought of himself as one of simple pleasures – taking joy even in the smallest of things, like how comfortable it can feel to cook with someone even when you’re freezing - but perhaps that wasn’t so simple in the end. He smiled, feeling fortunate despite the cold.

Having finished their cooking, Takao set the food on the kotatsu –the heat pump’s betrayal had made him completely forget that the table had its own heater, which meant that there was one more warm and comfortable safe space in the house. He placed the _mizutaki_ hot pot on the center along with a pair of bowls, and Midorima followed him, setting two plates of rice and vegetables as a side dish in front of them both, as well as two cups of tea. The raven-haired man hid his feet under the table, and Midorima positioned his legs in a way that allowed Takao to place his toes under the longer limbs of his boyfriend, offering more warmth. As they sat there - eating a delectable early dinner and sharing body heat, talking about their basketball practice, different university lectures and the Christmas get-together that Momoi was planning - Takao thought that although the same coldness remained, he had steadily become less bothered by the room’s low temperature ever since he got out of bed.

_Huh. Love really does all kinds of things to you._

After taking their time eating and chatting away, Midorima eventually got up, leaving Takao without the weight and warmth of his feet as he collected the chopsticks together with several empty cups and bowls. Takao shifted to his feet with the intention of helping his boyfriend clean up, when he suddenly felt a rush of shivers run down his spine once again, meeting the cold air without the protection of the kotatsu. Midorima noticed his trembling and looked at him, both hands occupied by tableware. Then, he leaned down, and planted a soft kiss on Takao’s forehead.

“Go ahead and return to bed already. I won’t take long.”

It took a moment before his surprised and distracted mind could process anything again, but after a few seconds of wide-eyed staring, Takao managed to speak. “Wait, you’re really coming with me? Even when it’s the middle of the day?”

“I did say to just give me a moment earlier,” Midorima answered. He turned around in that not-so-nonchalant way of his, something he was prone to do even now, when he felt embarrassed. Takao looked at him and wondered, as he so often did, how a man of nearly two meters could manage to be so _damn cute_. Seriously, what’s up with that? And what’s up with him, being smitten by this endearing, eccentric giant who has a pair of emeralds for eyes and bright green grass for hair, and who can go from sexy and self-assured to embarrassed and self-conscious in three seconds flat? Entertaining questions, surely, but at the end of the day, Takao simply rolled with it. He very, _very_ happily rolled with it, just like he very happily pranced his way to the bedroom, feeling what might have been far too giddy for someone who had been in a relationship for several years. _You just gotta embrace your inner school girl sometimes,_ he thought to himself, and smiled to the point it bordered on painful.

It wasn’t long after Takao had gotten rid of his socks and sweater and made himself comfortable in their large bed, when Midorima followed and seated himself at the edge of it, the scene practically a re-enactment of how they had been before. This time, though, Takao reached out his arms from where he was laying down, beckoning his partner to come closer.

“Warm me up?” Takao asked, eyes twinkling and arms open wide in welcome.

“So I figured,” said Midorima, with a smile so beautiful that it shouldn’t be legal. There was no hunger in his expression yet, but playfulness – and _love_ , so much love, that it all but melted every sharp edge of his regal-like, serious face.  His eyes looked so bright that one would think there were tears in them, catching light, but there were none. There was only love, to the point that it was almost suffocating to be looked at with such warm intensity.

Midorima cured that for him, however, when he positioned himself on top of him and leaned down for a sweet kiss, making Takao’s eyes flutter shut in reply. He draped his arms behind the neck of his other half, deepening the contact of their lips, followed by a pair of large and slender hands caressing his sides under the shirt. They were cold, creating a familiar contrast – every inch touched by Midorima’s cold fingertips caused heat to build up under his skin, leaving small, pleasurable fires in their wake. They continued their travel, shoving his shirt further and further up, until Takao had the mind to remove it completely. Midorima did the same, and their lips were linked again in seconds, tongues slowly intertwining with their steady and savouring pace, cold hands now on a warm chest, caressing firm skin and gently pinching and flicking hardened nipples. Takao moaned into the kiss, one hand shifting to grip his boyfriend’s broad shoulder, another tangling into green hair, though careful not to pull.

“ _Shintaro_ ,” Takao managed, breathless, and Midorima abandoned his lips only to travel to his ear, biting the lobe with careful pressure, then moving along his jawline, to the hollow of his throat, stopping briefly to kiss and nibble the collarbone, before arriving to his heaving chest. A hot mouth teased one hardened peak there, licking, nibbling and kissing, while an expert hand played with the other, flicking and fondling. Midorima had a splendid memory and a gift for perception, and if what he was able to do to him was anything to go by, Takao was certain that he had memorized every sensitive spot on his skin, the touches he was weak to, and all the meanings behind his voice and gestures, to the point where he knew them by heart.  

An eternity of minutes passed, and Takao could barely hold on anymore. A hand on the back of Midorima’s neck loosened its hold, giving two quick pats, and the taller man sat up, pulling his partner along with him and onto his lap. Takao straddled him, and Midorima returned to his waiting lips, both pulling each other closer and closer still, two bodies all but molded together. He could feel the friction from his sweatpants, but they both wanted - _needed_ \- to go slowly, or the emotions would become too much, and sensations would prove themselves fatal. Their love was passionate, seldom hurried, and on a cold day like this, Takao wanted nothing more than the heat to build up, to the point where the only things he knew in the universe were light, love, and one name.    

Parting to quietly gasp for air, Midorima pulled away enough to peer into Takao’s eyes – his pupils had become visibly dilated now, darkening the green around them. Then he leaned forward again, but instead of connecting their lips once more, he planted two soft kisses on Takao’s eyelids. He gave the same gentle treatment to his forehead, cheeks and nose, before finally returning to his lips. Midorima kissed him once, slowly and sweetly, different from before, and rested his forehead on Takao’s, long eyelashes occasionally tickling his skin. A large hand reached behind his head, softly cupping it and keeping it in place. Takao waited.  

“Thank you,” Midorima whispered, “for always putting up with me.”

 _There it is._ There were so many things he could say to that. In the end, the words to leave his lips were, “Right back at you.”

They were still a little breathless. Long lashes continued to softly tickle his skin, just above his eyelids. Emerald eyes looked at Takao’s chest, where his heart was warm and struggling. Midorima’s right hand reached for the left one of his other half, holding it.

“One day, I wish to ask you--“

“Yes,” Takao said.

A pause.  Then, “You cannot possibly deduce what I was about to say just by that alone,” Midorima stared at him, looking slightly taken aback.

“No, no, you don’t get it, Shin-chan,” Takao looked at him, answering as if it was all too obvious. “I’ve tuned myself for years when it comes to you, see – well, and I’ve also been tuning myself for those words, so I’ll know right away when the topic comes up. So the answer’s yes, but you knew that already. And I bet you think that because I was the one to confess first, that ‘ _It’s only a given that I be the one to propose’_ , or something like that.” Takao had lowered his voice and copied Midorima’s speech to drive the point home. Midorima looked at him with wide eyes, like he had experienced something of a miracle, mouth slightly open, breathless.

Takao chuckled in response. “Shintaro. You know there’s nothing else I’d rather do with my life than put up with you. So, I’m ready any day. You know, if that wasn’t already obvious.” He pressed their foreheads back together, and Midorima was functioning again.

“One day,” he repeated, “I’ll ask you. Properly.”

“Yup. I know. Until then, though,” Takao’s lips were barely apart from Midorima’s as he said, “just keep holding me.”

“ _I love you._ ” They spoke, simultaneously. Lips reunited, hands finding their rightful places on the skin of another, sharing warmth.

Loving, like it was meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone, long time no MidoTaka! I hope you enjoyed! A special shoutout to any perceptive individuals who might have noticed the parallels between the story’s last line and the final words from No Joke - that was certainly not a coincidence, as someone who is so fond of symbolism and deeper meanings! If you're dealing with cold weather, please remember to take proper care of your health, and be well.<3


End file.
